


Concession

by Spamberguesa



Series: Obsession [5]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Stockholm Syndrome, at least thranduil is now using a bit of his brain, captive tauriel, it is kicking in, mostly non-creeper anyway, progress - Freeform, still a little, surprisingly non-creeper thranduil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-11
Updated: 2015-08-11
Packaged: 2018-04-14 05:48:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4553064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spamberguesa/pseuds/Spamberguesa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Thranduil has decided to make use of the grey matter between his ears, and realizes that he has done Tauriel a very great wrong. (Not that that’s about to stop him.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Concession

Mandos, Tauriel decided, must truly hate her. Twice now he had barred her from his halls, when by all rights she should have entered. Or perhaps the Valar enjoyed her suffering.

She was warm, when she woke, for once not resenting Thranduil’s unnatural heat. Her head rested on his chest, his heartbeat strong and steady beneath her ear.

When had she stopped fighting the nameless, elusive scent of him? Why was she comforted right now, in spite of her despair? She’d grown used to sleeping against him, and though part of her wanted to kill him, most of her didn’t want to move. Both bed and blankets were very soft, and for once the arm around her didn’t feel like a shackle.

Though he lay still, his breathing suggested he was awake, so she said, “Why will you not let me die? Do you care nothing for my misery?” The hoarseness of her voice surprised her – but then, her throat and chest were both sore from yesterday’s attempt at drowning.

She felt as much as heard him sigh. “I have wronged you, Tauriel,” he said, his fingers playing along her arm. “I see that now, but I cannot let you go. I would die without you.”

Her heart sank, but he went on:

“I cannot yet you out. Not yet. But I will take you out into the forest, and when I am away, I will send Huoriel to you.”

It wasn’t perfect, but it was a start – and much better than what she’d had this far. “Thank you, Thranduil.” She knew that his motives with Huoriel weren’t entirely pure: after two failed attempts at suicide, he had to have realized that leaving her alone was not wise. If she had her friend, she was far less likely to want to – and Huoriel would stop her if she tried.

Still, she would take it, and happily. It really was a bit pathetic, just how much that pleased her, but she’d had little enough pleasure since the battle.

“You have lied to me all along, Tauriel,” he said, fingers now twining in her hair. “Why?”

She shut her eyes. “I feared what you would do if I did not.”

His hand stilled. “Did you really think I would harm you?” he asked, and he actually sounded wounded.

“I did not know. And I did not wish to find out.”

Thranduil sighed again, and pulled her closer, so that she was nearly lying atop him, the crown of her head just beneath his chin. “Do you think I will hurt you now?”

“I do not know. You _wanted_ to, earlier. I saw it in your eyes. I thought you were going to kill me.”

The sound in his chest was truly pained. “Do not fear me, Tauriel,” he said. “And do not feel you must lie to me.” He actually sounded…almost like himself. Certainly less like the mad creature who had imprisoned her all these months. “I will not hurt you for telling the truth.”

She tried to sit up enough to look at him, but it was a moment before he let her. His face was paler than normal, the madness she was so used to seeing in his eyes mostly subsumed by pain, visible even in the darkened room. “Can you promise me that?”

Her question only made the pain deepen, and he gently dragged his knuckles along her cheek. “Yes,” he said, and there was nothing but honesty in his voice. “I would kill anything that tried to harm you, Tauriel. Including myself. You are all I have.”

“No, I am not,” she said, as gently as she could. She shouldn’t feel any need to comfort him, but strangely, she did. “You have an entire kingdom of people who would love you, if only you would let them. You have a son who will return to you, once he has worked out his anger.”

Though of Legolas – and why he had left – made her pause. “Thranduil, would you really have killed me, had he not intervened?”

“Of course not,” he said, now tracing the shell of her ear. “No more than you would have shot me. But I should not have threatened you at all.”

Tauriel rested her head on his shoulder again. “I should not have threatened you, either,” she said, “but I am not sorry I did. Had we left, there would be no Dale, and possibly no Erebor, and an army of orcs would have wound up on our doorstep. So many of us would have died anyway, and for what?”

“My own selfishness,” he sighed. “I spent my people’s lives for a box of gems – that I did not even receive, I might add. But even if I had, the cost would not have been worth it.”

Tauriel didn’t know what to say that would not sound cruel, so she said nothing for a moment. “Had we not gone, the Dwarves and Edain would all have died, and still we would have lost our people, when the orcs came to us. I cannot tell you I approve of _why_ we went, but it is as well that we did.” She wasn’t going to lie and call his motivation justified, because it had been staggeringly selfish, and she did not understand it in the least – but she also didn’t need to hit him upside the head with the truth. Likely he already knew, and if he did not, nothing she said would sway him.

“Why do you sound more like _you_ now?” she added, before he could respond. She was only dimly aware that she was running her fingers over his shoulder, and she only realized it at all because he shivered under her touch.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“All these last months you have been…mercurial,” she said. “It was part of why I feared you. I never knew, from moment to moment, what would please or anger you. It was as if you had gone mad.” There was still madness in his eyes, however faint, but she was hardly going to mention _that_. Not when they seemed to actually be making some manner of progress.

“I _was_ mad, Tauriel,” he said, kissing the crown of her head. “Where you are concerned, I have always been so, and I do not know why. I should not have wanted and needed you as I did. As I still do. I know I should let you go, but I simply cannot do it. Knowing you are here is all that gets me through most days.”

The thought made her twitch. “I cannot be the whole of your salvation, Thranduil,” she said. “That is too much of a burden for any one person to bear. You need friends.”

Thranduil laughed, harsh and bitter. “Kings do not have _friends_ ,” he said, nearly spitting the word. “They have councilors and servants, but they cannot afford friendships with their own people. That only leads to infighting and intrigue.”

“You have Bard,” she pointed out. “Yes, he is mortal, but he surely understands the difficulty of ruling – and moreover, he will have no idea how to do it. He would welcome advice.”

Thoughtful silence followed that, while he continued to twine his fingers in her hair. “Perhaps _you_ should be my chief councilor,” he said at last. “No other has suggested that.”

“No other knows you are lonely. And you cannot tell me you are not – if you weren’t, I wouldn’t be here,” Tauriel added.

“You are too perceptive for your own good,” he grumbled.

Now it was she who laughed. “Would you want me if I was not?”

“I would always want you, but I might not love you.”

She shuddered a little. “I wish you would not say that,” she said.

“Why?”

“Before, it terrified me. Now it simply makes me feel guilty,” she admitted.

“Even if you never love me in return, Tauriel, your presence is balm enough,” he assured her. “If it unsettles you, I will not say it.”

 _But I will know you think it_ , she thought. She still didn’t believe he truly loved her, even though he seemed much more sane now. “I would appreciate that,” she said. “I dislike feeling guilty.”

“You have no reason for guilt,” he said. “This is my problem, not yours.”

He rolled her to the side, so that he could see her face. “If I let you bathe alone, will you try to drown yourself again?”

“No, Thranduil,” she said, and meant it. “No, I will not.”

\--

The bath was glorious, but better still was the appearance of Huoriel. She was a tall elleth, dark-haired and grey-eyed like many of the Silvan people, and her relief upon seeing Tauriel was palpable. As soon as Thranduil was gone, she pulled her into a fierce, unaccustomed embrace that made breathing somewhat difficult.

“Are you well?” she asked, pulling back to look Tauriel in the eye. “Has he harmed you?”

“Yes,” Tauriel said, “and no. Up until this morning Thranduil has seemed quite mad, but the only harm I have come to here is by my own hand.”

“Morwen said you slit your arms,” Huoriel said, taking her by the shoulders.

“I did,” she admitted. “And yesterday I tried to drown myself. I think that snapped Thranduil out of the worst of his madness.”

“Why do you call him that?” Huoriel asked.

“He insisted,” Tauriel said dryly. “Now it is merely habit.” She drew Huoriel over the divan, adding wood to the fire. “What have I missed, these last months?”

“Everyone thinks the King has lost his mind,” she said. “We had a funeral for the fallen, and have sung their laments each night. Beyond that, things are much as they have always been. We greatly miss you as captain – Beleg is competent, but he is not you.” She paused. “Do you think the King will ever allow you to return to your post?”

Tauriel snorted. “Perhaps in five hundred years. This is the first morning since I have been here that he seems something close to himself. This is the first morning he has let me take a _bath_ on my own.”

Huoriel’s eyes widened, and Tauriel wished she hadn’t mentioned that. “Has he tried…anything?”

“No, actually – which greatly surprised me at first,” Tauriel said. “Whatever it is he wants from me, it is not that, thank Eru. For all his constant need to touch me, he has been strangely chivalrous. Never once have I sensed any desire of that sort from him.”

Huoriel breathed a sigh of relief. “I confess, we had all feared it would be otherwise.”

“ _I_ feared it too, at first,” she admitted. “Though not for long. Even in his madness, he made it clear early on that it was only contact he craved. And that is much easier to give now that he is…less mad. There are times I have feared he would hurt me, but never like that.”

“Do you fear it still?” Huoriel asked carefully.

“No, actually. He seems much more the ellon I know. I pray that it lasts. I think that it will – he might have dismissed my first attempt to kill myself as grief, but he could not do so this time. I think that woke him up, in a sense. He has remembered that I am a person, not the avatar of his hope. It is a start.”

Huoriel looked at her more carefully still, grey eyes searching her face. “Tauriel, what is it you want?”

“I wish I was not trapped here,” she said, “but my presence seems an aid to him now, not a detriment.” She did not want to admit now much she had enjoyed this morning, no matter how difficult the conversation. No doubt _she_ would be the one who sounded mad.

Her friend’s expression went grave. “Do you actually want to leave?”

“Leave this room? Eru, yes. Never in my life have I been so confined. Leave Thranduil? I…do not know. I do not think so.” Her answer genuinely surprised her, especially since only yesterday she’d been willing to _kill_ herself to escape him.

But he did not now seem to be the person she had been trying to escape from. This morning he had spoken to her as though she were a _person_ , and while the depth of his need for her disturbed her greatly, it was weirdly nice to be needed.

If only he would let her _out_. He said that knowing she was here each night was a comfort, but she could just as easily come to his rooms in the evening after her own work was done. She didn’t _have_ to go on long-range scouting missions – at this point, she would even accept being a palace guard, and staying within the halls. It was not ideal, but she would take what she would get. Hopefully, she could with time get him to see that there was no peril in wandering around her own home. At least now he seemed capable of actually listening to her.

Huoriel looked deeply worried, and Tauriel did not wonder why. If she had any sense, she’d run as far as she could, as fast as she could – but one of the few truths she’d told Thranduil all along was that she had nowhere else to go. Lothlórien and Imladris did not appeal to her; she was a child of the Woodland Realm, dark and dangerous though it was. Leaving it would kill her, no matter how difficult staying was.

“Enough of that,” she said. “I want details. Has Beleg finally worked up the courage to court Menelwen, or must you drag him here so I can hit him upside the head?”

\--

When the King returned to his chambers that evening, Huoriel left, deeply troubled.

She had not expected Tauriel to resign herself to her captivity, even a little. Had she not been grieving the loss of her Dwarf when it began, she might not have now.

The guards had for months been hatching a plot to spirit her away somewhere, consequences be damned, but it would not work if she did not actually wish to _go._ And the longer she stayed, the less likely she was to want to.

The others would not be pleased by this news, though they _would_ be glad she had not been harmed. At least there was that to be grateful for, even if everything else was disturbing.

Perhaps it was time for a new plan. Their current one certainly wasn’t going to work.

\--

In spite of her words to Huoriel, Tauriel still greeted Thranduil’s return with a certain amount of apprehension. She had no way of knowing if his clarity of this morning had persisted, or if he would return to her as a mad stranger again.

When she saw that it was the former, her relief was immeasurable. The odd possessiveness in his eyes remained, but it was largely subsumed by simple affection – and now that she knew it for what it was, she realized it had always been there. It was unsettling, but not nearly so much so as his madness.

“Did you enjoy Huoriel’s company?” he asked, removing his crown and setting it on the mantle.

“I did,” she said, sitting in an armchair with her legs tucked under her. “She told me of all the goings-on that would be beneath your notice.”

He actually looked pleased by that as he shed his heavy outer robe, tossing it carelessly on the other armchair. He really was surprisingly indifferent to the care of his fine clothes. “Good,” he said, sitting on the divan. “Now come here.”

She still felt a frisson of trepidation when she approached, but not nearly so much as she would have even yesterday. It was much easier to sit on his lap when she wasn’t afraid he would break her neck if she breathed wrong.

“I will spare you the details of my day,” he said, tucking her head beneath his chin. “ _I_ found it dull, so it would likely put you to sleep.”

“I would think dull would be good,” she said, a little disturbed by how comfortable she was. “It means all is quiet.”

“It _is_ good,” Thranduil said, absently running his fingers through her hair. “That does not, however, make it any more entertaining. No one argues with me anymore.”

 _They are not insane_ , she thought. Aloud, she said, “Give them reason to. Suggest something so outlandish they could not possibly silently condone it.”

“Like what?” he asked, his fingers now trailing down her arm.

“Tell them that all nobility must color their hair pink for some upcoming feast,” she replied. “Lord Falchon in particular would faint with horror. Menelwen says he is the most vain ellon she had ever heard of.” Her brother was servant to Falchon; she would know.

Thranduil laughed – truly laughed, without bitterness or madness, and what tension she harbored eased a bit. This too was a side of him with which she was unfamiliar, but it was infinitely more welcome. This was a Thranduil she could hope to reason with, though she knew she should not push for more freedom yet. That, she was sure, would have to come by degrees, for mad or not, he was still fully convinced of his feelings for her. Tauriel had much more work to do, if she was to gain enough of his trust to actually be let out unaccompanied, but at least that now seemed _possible_.

“And what of you, Tauriel?” he asked, resting his cheek on her head. “Would you color your hair pink?”

“Absolutely not,” she snorted. “Were I a noble and you asked that of me, I would rebel.”

“I am glad you are not a noble,” he said. “I am glad you would demand nothing of me.”

 _Well,_ liberty _would be nice_. “I want nothing from anyone but myself,” she said, “and never have.” She had lost her parents so young that she no longer remembered what it was, to need someone. All she had ever wanted, until she met Kili, was to do her job, and do it well.

 _I have a new job now_ , she thought, staring into the dancing flames. Her task now was to get some semblance of her old life back – to make Thranduil trust her enough to give it. That task no longer seemed so odious.

“I know you want sunlight,” he said. “Tomorrow, we will walk in the forest.”

Tauriel smiled. “Thank you, Thranduil.”

**Author's Note:**

> Why hello there, beginnings of Stockholm Syndrome. Thranduil’s actually far more dangerous to her like this than when he was a crazypants, because she’s starting to let her guard down. At least it’s progress?


End file.
